


What I Was, Once

by saizoswifey



Category: Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY, 天下統一恋の乱 | Sakura Amidst Chaos | Samurai Love Ballad (Visual Novel), 天下統乱 Love Ballad | Samurai Love Ballad (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Angst, Death, F/M, dying, light spoilers, samurai love ballad party, slbp, slbp shingen, spoilers for his route, takeda shingen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 18:26:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14086929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saizoswifey/pseuds/saizoswifey
Summary: I wrote this for a Shingen loving friend who wanted a sad piece. This is an AU of sorts, wherein Shingen passes away on his own time, instead of being killed. My take on his thoughts and feelings, and how he would handle his death and the aftermath.





	What I Was, Once

_Life doesn’t stop just because you’re dying_.

     In a period of constant war and turbulence you would be hard-pressed to find anyone who was not aware of this fact, but even so, Takeda Shingen perhaps understood this more than most. Knew there were still plenty of ups and even more downs. When he thought about his impending death and leaving this world it was not about the world itself as a whole; he wasn’t as selfish as all that, but instead the individual things that he would be abandoning. You, his retainers—that went without saying.

     It was even smaller things he found to be the hardest to grasp letting go of. How could he come to terms with the fact that one day he would not have the feel of your small hands brushing his hair before breakfast, caressing his scalp before tying his hair up in just the perfect way. 

     Or the pleasant dreams of his younger days when his shoulders were not yet aware of the profound burden they would one day carry. Wind whistling through his ears and bringing a pleasant moisture to his eyes as he recklessly raced through the mountains with his brother. He’d look back, saying something boisterous and cocky and  _young_  though he could not remember exactly what, and laugh, though it was not as deep and hearty as it was today. He would miss the heaving power of the animal beneath him and the sound of hooves like the rhythm of freedom.  

     Of course, some things were easier to leave. The memories and hardships he had faced in his life; the regrets. Eyes of fear from those at the other end of his sword. The searing pain in his lungs, the feeling of cold sweats and the way the illness swept in waves and seemed to erode every muscle and tendon in his body until he felt as weak as a newborn, unable to dress or walk outside and take a proper piss without assistance. The pity.

     Yes, these things he would not miss.

     “Yukimura would make a fine partner to warm your bed once I pass,” Shingen said one night while you brushed his hair from behind him. The brush stopped halfway down his back. Abrupt. Inward he was smiling, but his face remained serious and stoic. He knew it was a terrible thing to say but he meant it.

     “I told you not to talk like that.” The brush resumed its course.

     Ah, you were upset.  _He would miss that_. The same tone you used to scold him in the middle of the night when the morning light was approaching and he still had not come to bed. Behind his shield of books and maps and writing desk he would hear the shoji open and know for certain, it would only be a matter of seconds before you dragged him to bed while giving him an earful about his  _health_ , how he should  _care_  more, and  _rest_. Did you know your voice was always too full of caring and love to ever be threatening? He hid a small smile at the thought.  

     “It’s true,” he continued. “He’s loyal and kind. Honest to a fault. He may not be as good a lover as I am-“

     “No one is as good a lover as you are,” you cut him off.

     He let a deep laugh trickle out through the pain it caused his lungs. Despite the hints of rasp, it was still very much Shingen. Not young Shingen or healthy Shingen, but Shingen. He never grew tired of the way you fueled his ego, even if it wasn’t the truth.

     “I hope you won’t forget that…” It was quiet and doleful, uncharacteristically melancholy, but he smiled as he said it.

     “There’s nothing for me to forget in the first place. You remind me every day. You’re still here.”

     Shingen reached behind him and took hold of your hand, bringing the back of it to his cheek. He had to remind himself that you were not cold, he was simply warm.

     “That’s right. I’m here.”

     Though, not forever. Not even for long, he thought. In his heart, he truly hoped you would move on and find another man to love. Another man to protect you and live with you in the ways Shingen wished he could have. If he could, he would bring you and Yukimura together while he was still alive just so he could rest assured you would be taken care of. But conversely, it lit a jealous fire in his belly thinking of any–other than himself–getting to touch you and caress you, to claim you in the most intimate ways.

     And when he turned to face you he tossed the brush from your hand and, fever be damned, latched his lips to your neck and lowered you underneath him.

 _He would miss this as well_.

__

     He wasn’t even gone and yet he missed eating. He missed having an appetite for anything at all, really. Before, the smell would at least draw a rumble from his belly but now…now even that was not enough to elicit a response from him. A grave sign. But he kept this to himself. He didn’t want to worry you. How could he? How could he steal the light from your eyes? You, who smiled and the bud of your lips opened up like a flower in bloom. And he was just so tired. So very tired. The sharpness of his features even more apparent with his thinning frame.  _The exhaustion would be easy to let go of_.

     Flowers sprung and snow fell.

_While I gazed out,_

_barely conscious that I too_

_was growing old,_

_how many times have blossoms_

_scattered on the spring wind?_

     Helpless. He was a prisoner to the passing of time. While his body moved at an increasingly slow pace, the seasons passed as quickly as he ever remembered. Funny, how the years shortened the older your age. He’d say it was cruel but he knew that was not really true. The autumn breeze brought a chill straight to his bones and Shingen sat awake in the night, alone. Every shudder of breath sent a thick anxiety coursing through his veins, choking him. He had never felt so weak. His arm rested on his writing desk, propping him up with all the strength he had left. The light from the oil lamp was so dim that it wouldn’t matter if it had not been lit at all.

     Despite his feverish shaking, the haori remained draped over his shoulders. He alternated dotting at the bit of sweat lingering on his brow and then his eyes as he wept softly in solitude, staring out into the moonlight. The moon, full and bright, reminded him of the rocks from the river he used to play in as a child. As if perhaps one day he had skipped one a bit too hard, and it flew into the sky to remain for the rest of his days. The thought was comforting in its nostalgia. He continued to bring brush to paper, shaky hands be damned.

     When he finished, he lay next to your sleeping frame. He caressed a warm hand along your belly. Not enough to rouse you, but enough to feel connected to the life inside, stirring and responding against his flattened palm.

     This.  _He would miss this the most_ , he thought. And the easiest to let go—the indescribable agony he felt with the knowledge that he would not be around long enough to see it’s face.

___

     Although Shingen was gone, his spirit and love were left in traces all around you. 

     The first time you found a note, the tears welling from your eyes kept you from reading the words properly. This one tiny paper, gently nestled in a new hairpin inside your dark lacquered box.

 

     ‘ _Wear this today, my love. Go outside for a walk. And when you hear the birds song, know they will be singing only for you, and your beauty on this day_.’

 

     And you did. Though you didn’t make it very far before giving in to a heavy sob.

     Two infant swaddles left on your bedding when you returned from the kitchens one evening.  _Saizo_. One for a boy and one for a girl. And a note.

 

_‘Forgive me, I wanted to give our child a gift but I was not sure which would end up being used… Though, I am sure you’ll make use of both when you start to have more children. At least, I hope you would.’_

     Little notes in curious places.

     Married with bolts of fine cloth that were delivered after he was gone.

     “There must be a mistake…I have not requested these,” you protested.

     “Forgive me milady, but it is no mistake. Lord Shingen personally instructed us to make these and deliver them here at this time.”

     They came with the seasons, patterns for spring, patterns for summer and thick cloth for winter, all beautiful.

     Pieces of parchment under your bedding, anywhere he could think of to reach you even when he was not there. Some brought by those in his service he trusted most—when you needed them the most. Some for your child to read in the future.

     You breathed in the sun-drenched air.

     In front of you in the lush garden grass, plump, shaky legs brought your child closer to your feet.

     “My lady, she’s escaped again,” a maid appeared from the veranda.

     “Alright then,” you sighed.

     You took off, heading in the only direction that made sense. The same place she always ended up. The sun was traveling towards the horizon and the chance breezes caught your hair and cooled your skin. Through trees and over rocky paths you made your way to high ground until you found her.

     “Kurokumo,” you called in exasperation when you finally saw her, calm and grazing on the familiar hill overlooking Kai.

     She looked back and flicked her tail in annoyance.

     “You’ve got to stop doing this.” She ignored you and returned her face to the grass. You gave her a couple long strokes down her neck. “I know, I miss him too.”

     She snorted in response.

     Perhaps this shared feeling of loneliness was the closest thing bonding you two.

     Inside a deep hollow of the tree, you retrieved a glass bottle, unrolling the parchment hidden inside.

 

_‘Are you sad? Is that why you’ve come here? Whatever you are feeling, I am always with you in this spot. If you feel the warmth of the sun, close your eyes and look up to the sky, think of it is as my hands upon your cheeks. The wind moving through your hair is my fingers. Raindrops upon your skin are each a kiss from my lips. And when it’s cold, wrap your haori around yourself and it will be my warm embrace. Whatever your burden, I am there to share it. Look out upon the vastness in front of you and smile for me, and for all of the wonderful life around you._

_And know I am smiling, too.’_

 

     Kurokumo nudged your shoulder with enough strength to knock you off balance and you wiped the newfound wetness from your cheek.

     “Alright,” you gave her a smile and tucked the vial back into the tree. “We can stay. Just a little longer…”


End file.
